


Ground Zero

by Panic_for_Bucky_Barnes



Category: Marvel
Genre: Angst, Getting Back Together, Ground Zero, Heavy Angst, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Mission failures, Not A Happy Ending, Really bad injuries, The shell of my former self, it hurts so much, i’m not him, light fluff, mentions of depression, this one hurts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-13 10:49:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17486735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Panic_for_Bucky_Barnes/pseuds/Panic_for_Bucky_Barnes
Summary: A mission failure results in Steve in the ICU and Bucky telling himself that it’s his fault. Bucky stays at the hospital where they talk about how they could have made the cutest couple.





	1. The Collapse

**Author's Note:**

> On a scale of one to ten, hoe angsty is this fanfic?
> 
> Three thousand, six hundred and twelve.

It was only a matter of time before the bomb went off, and of course Steve was inside when it did.

 

I have my back turned, checking in with Natalia, who’s smart enough to already be in the Quinjet ready to take off at any time, when I hear the boom.

 

It wasn’t a boom really, more of a crack. The crack of my heart breaking when I realize the building has gone up in flames.

 

And of course Steve was still inside.

 

Steve was still inside.

 

Shit! Steve!

 

Natalia was out of the Quinjet in a flash, racing toward the building. She stops to look back at me.

 

“James goddamnit! Stop crying and help me get to Steve!”

 

That got me in action, catching up to her and racing into the burning building. This couldn’t be happening, not now, not after I’d just gotten Steve back...

 

“Get your head out of your ass, James and use the fucking tracker you put on Steve!” Natasha yells at me.

 

Right.

 

The tracker.

 

What would I do without Natalia?

 

The tracker I put on Steve was directly linked to the fancy new phone Natasha and Stark insisted on me. Usually I fumbled when opening the darn thing, but for once I was able to get it open in a record time.

 

“He’s on the third floor,” I yell. We have to yell, the flames are now roaring around us, licking away the sweat on our foreheads as soon as it forms.

 

“Looks like the blast came from there,” Natalia yells back.

 

Of course the bast came from the same floor.

 

Of. Course. It. Fucking. Did.

 

Wherever the was danger, there was Steve.

 

We’re racing up the stairs, almost to the third floor, when we hear someone yelling in the smoke. We’re not about to stop in the middle of the stairs, so we kelp going. Eerily enough, the yelling gets louder as we race up.

 

Finally at the third floor, I can barely make out what’s being yelled.

 

“Get out! Bucky, Nat, get out of here!”

 

My heart races, that was Steve yelling. I want to follow my racing heart into the third floor and find him, get him out of the smoke and ash and back home.

 

Back home where I could finally come out of the shell surrounding me. The leftover shell of the Winter Soldier. Maybe then I’d confess that...

 

“Bucky! Where are you going?”

 

Natalia pulls me out of my thoughts. My feet have deceived me and have carried me farther from the stairs and farther from safety.

 

Is this what happens to Steve?

 

Does his feet just decide to carry him to the danger?

 

“Steve.” The words just slip out of me. “I need to get to Steve.”

 

“Bucky!” Natalia’s calls won’t get me to turn back. Now I’m on the same page with my feet, wanting to get to Steve. Wanting to get him out of this hell.

 

“Steve!” I see him up ahead, alert but pinned to the ground by a massive steel pillar that fell from the building’s room.

 

“Bucky I told you to go!” He yells at me. I don’t listen, using the strength I’ve accumulated over the years helps get the bar pinning up far enough for Steve to scramble out from underneath. A sense of dejà vu washes over me as I see him scrambling.

 

My assessment fills me with dread:

 

Broken foot

 

Fractured ankle

 

A worrisome amount of blood has been lost

 

Broken nose (again goddamnit)

 

Third-degree burns on arms and legs, and torso

 

Multiple gunshot wounds to the abdomen

 

Shrapnel in the torso

 

“Fuck...” the words are a bare whisper, but somehow Steve hears them over the flames.

 

“Like old times, eh?” He smiles. His hand comes around to pat me on the shoulder, and out of habit I flinch. Steve’s smile waivers and a worried smile replaces the one of happiness I like.

 

“Sorry,” I say, moving away from Steve’s grasp. It hurts to leave him, but it’s for his own good. I’m pretty sure Steve thinks of me as the old Bucky, the one before the torture and the HYDRA and the brainwashing and everything that sucked the real Bucky out and put me in to replace him.

 

A loud groaning interrupts the roaring fire. Steve’s eyes go wide as he looks above me. My gaze follows his, and I spot an area of the roof that would collapse on me any second now...

 

It all happened so fast, one minute Steve was in front of me, the next he was pushing me away while the roof caved in. I stumble backwards, avoiding the roof and I loose my balance, crashing through the window Steve conveniently pushed me towards.

 

A three story drop isn’t fun, but it’s better than being trapped in a caved-in building with live explosives inside.

 

The ground hurt when I landed, it was nothing compared to the hurt of knowing Steve was still trapped inside the burning building. I remember the feeling of heat searing across my face as my vision started to get blurry. The explosives... Steve still can’t be in there, can he? How was I still conscious after a three story fall? Did Natalia get out in time?

 

My vision flickers a few times, I go in and out of consciousness, until I finally am able to sit up without my head hurting. How long that was since I feel from the third floor, was unknown, but it was enough time for the morning to come and for the fires to finally burn out. 

 

I sit up abruptly, and the assessment is worse than Steve’s injuries I saw last time... last night? I can’t remember, I’m unaware of how long it’s been, which isn’t good. I’m slipping from my old habits.

 

“Steve!” The rubble of what was left of the building is still smoldering, and I’m tallying up the odds for Steve’s survival in my head...

 

If it’s been three hours his survival rate is 43%

 

If it’s been four hours his survival rate is 37%

 

If it’s been five hours his survival rate is 24%

 

If it’s been six hours his survival rate is 12%

 

If it’s been seven hours his survival rate is 5%

 

If it’s been eight hours his survival rate is

 

I force myself to stop, knowing by eight hours he’d be dead. 

 

But it could be close to eight hours. And if I didn’t find Steve, it could be my fault for his death. Maybe if I hadn’t flinched, and instead lead Steve out of the building, or even jumped out the window with Steve in tow, Steve would have been right next to me.

 

“Steve!” Maybe calling for him will gain a response.

 

“Steve!” I try again, louder. “Please, Steve! Respond!” I can feel my chest tighten as more seconds tick by without a response.

 

“Please...”

 

I broke then, tossing away the shell the Winter Soldier kept me in for so long and dug. I dug into the rubble, on my hands and knees, praying to whoever heard me that Steve was still alive. 

 

Finally I come across something round and red. My eyes widen as I realized it’s the shield Steve carries everywhere. Digging faster, I pull it out of the rubble, hoping Steve is attached to it somehow.

 

It comes loose from the concrete, and to my dismay, it’s alone.

 

I wait, maybe my digging stared up the rubble enough for someone (hopefully Steve, Hell, even Natalia) to groan and show their whereabouts. Nothing happens, so I search around the area and dig for any sign of people.

 

I don’t realize there’s a hand right in front of me until it moves. I let out a little scream and dig fast, again. I manage to unearth them enough to see that it’s Natalia.

 

So she didn’t get out in time.

 

I get her head exposed so she can breath properly, then start to work on the rest of her body.

 

“Hey, James. Glad to see you made it out in time,” she says to me. I don’t say anything back, talking isn’t my strong suit. I do sneak a peak at her, she’s smiling. Which makes me feel kind of bad for not saying anything back to her.

 

“Steve pushed me out,” I respond flatly. Natalia smirks and cranes her neck to look above the rubble and at the leftovers of the building.

 

“Did you find him?” She asks. Now this time I’m not saying anything back. I don’t want to explain myself on how it’s my fault Steve’s still trapped.

 

I get her up on her feet and am surprised my her condition.

 

Second-degree burns on her legs

 

Minor third-degree burns on her arms

 

A few cuts and scrapes from the building falling around her

 

Internal bleeding only in her right leg

 

Broken rib

 

It’s a surprise she managed to survive the building collapse and the explosions with the injuries she sustained.

 

She spots the shield I found and her smile disappears in an instant. She hobbles over to the shield and squats down, picking it up. I can hear her mumbling curses under her breath, a small tear even trickles down from her eye, washing away some of the grime left from the building.

 

“He can’t be gone,” she says. “Not possible, it’s just...”

 

I feel kind of awkward standing there, watching her cry, so I go over to her and sit down. I think my action startled her, it’s not common for me to go near people if given the choice.

 

“I’m sorry,” I say. “It’s my fault.”

 

She turns to me, her tears are getting bigger, and the dirt on her cheeks is almost non-existent at this point. I see her arms coming, ready for a hug. This time I don’t flinch, I’ve learned what happens when I do.

 

“It’s not,” she reassures me, her smile a little strained. I’m pretty sure she was reassuring herself too, because I know that it’s my fault Steve is still trapped in the rubble, probably dead.

 

He’s probably dead.

 

Because of me.

 

Let that sink in, Barnes.

 

“What about the tracker?” Natalia asks. Her arms are still around me in a hug, but that’s when I remember the tracker I put on Steve’s suit.

 

What would I do without Natalia?

 

I’m up, phone out. That device said it was 8:36 am, and the last time I checked it, the time was 1:24 am...

 

Survival rate for six hours and forty-eight minutes is 8.091%

 

We have to act fast!

 

The tracker gets a location on Steve, thank god, and I find myself flying towards the spot it says he’s at. I discard the phone and start to dig, not caring about the scratches and torn calluses on my hand.

 

I need to get to Steve.

 

I need to get to Steve.

 

I need to get to Steve.

 

I need to get to...

 

“Steve!” I see a foot first, but I recognize the shoe instantly. Natalia hears my cry and rushes over, helping me dig him out. We get enough dirt off of him, and my heart drops when I see him. He’s breathing, thank god, but he looks sickly, eyes open and staring at the sky.

 

Now shouldn’t be the time for dejà vu, but I really seem to be feeling it.

 

“You haul him to the Quinjet!” Natalia tells me. “I’ll have it off the ground the moment you guys are strapped in!” She sprints over to the Quinjet to get it started.

 

I stare at Steve in the rubble, thinking of a way to get him out. The best thing I can come up with is to carry him, so that’s what I do. I pick him up, bridal style, and carry him towards the Quinjet. We’re halfway there when I spot his shield.

 

I don’t think twice when I pick I up and clip it to my back.

 

“You’ll be okay Stevie,” I find myself whispering. “You can make it, I promise.”

 

Steve’s vacant eyes snap back to life then, and they slowly move to me. He smiles and closed his eyes peacefully. I can feel his grasp tighten around me, feeding off the warmth I provide.

 

“This is all I need,” he whispers to me. “Thank you.”

 

For a while I could feel his heart beating against my chest, but it starts to slow, not in time with my heart anymore. I panic, sure the odds said he should be dead, but he wasn’t. And he can’t die now, in my arms.

 

Not after I got him back.

 

“C’mon Steve, The Quinjet’s just a little farther. You can make it, you better make it punk. I swear to god if you don’t make it, you won’t hear the end of it. C’mon Stevie. C’mon...”

 

I whisper those nothings into his ear as I board the Quinjet. True to her word, Natalia is off the ground and speeding towards Wakanda within seconds. I feel his pulse, tears spring to my eyes when I feel the steady beat slowing down.

 

I grab the first aid kit, hoping some of the feeble supplies could help him in any way. Drops of condensation drip onto his suit from the pipes above. I look up, wondering how one of the pipes could be dripping. Then I realize that I’m crying, the drops are from me.

 

The first aid kit now abandoned, I lay my head on Steve’s chest and close my eyes.

 

“C’mon Steve, stay with me. Please stay with me. Please... I can’t live without you.”

 


	2. Diagnosis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Mentions of suicide, depression, and cutting. 
> 
> If you are, or if you know someone who is cutting, please call 1-800-237-8255, these people can help! Even if you aren't thinking about suicide, you should still call them.

I don’t like seeing Steve like this. All those tubes sticking out of him, machines doing his breathing, I don’t like it.

 

I don’t like it one bit.

 

He has a full-time nurse, she hovers around him constantly. Making sure he’s okay, he’s comfortable.

 

The full-time nurse should be my job, but I don’t think I’m qualified.

 

The moment we landed in Wakanda, everyone was in a panic. They saw me carrying Steve off the Quinjet and I’m pretty sure a few people fainted when they saw him.

 

I don’t blame them, he is in pretty bad condition.

 

Shuri was ready with three stretchers when we ran off the Quinjet. I set Steve down on one of them, helped Natalia up to the second, then started at the third.

 

“I’m fine.”

 

Shuri grabbed my hand anyways and lead me to the stretcher. I sat down on it to satisfy her, then got up again. I followed Natalia and Steve on foot, my stretcher following behind me like a puppy.

 

“Bucky, could you please lay down?” Shuri asked me. I shook my head, which made it sting a little. I groaned a little, shaking my head hurt way too much.

 

“Otritsatel’nyy,” Shuri stared at me. “Ne bespokoysya obo mne.”

 

What the hell?

 

“Lay down Bucky,” Shuri pleaded. This time I did.

 

“YA ne znayu, chto proiskhodit. Angliyskiy ne rabotayet dlya menya.” Shuri stared blankly at me.

 

“Ms. Romanoff?”

 

“He’s speaking in Russian. He said, ‘I don’t know what’s happening to me. English does not work for me.’”

 

“What happened, do you know?” Shuri asked Natalia.

 

“YA upal s trekh etazhey.”

 

“He fell from three stories up.”

 

Shuri looked back at me and shook her head, disappointed.

 

“You’ll have to sit through some MRI scans, Bucky. If that’s alright,” she told me.

 

“Konechno chto ugodno,” I say to her. “YA dumayu koyda ya pokochal golovoy, moy angliyskiy otklyuchisya i zastavil menya govorit tol’ko po-russki.”

 

“He said ‘when I shook my head, my English went out and made me speak only Russian.’ He also said yes to the MRI scans,” Natalia translated. Shuri sucked in a deep breath and rubbed her temple.

 

“Note to self, keep a real-time translator in every ship at all times,” she whispered.

 

And now I was here, watching Steve sleep. Shuri said I had the most severe of all severe concussions, and as I suspected, shaking my head did something to my brain. Something that makes me speak in only Russian. Shuri said she’d fix it, but I insisted she’d do that after she fixed Natalia and Steve.

 

“Hey, Bucky.” I turn from Steve to see Shuri, holding a clipboard. She sits down next to me, from what I can tell, she’s been crying.

 

“U vas yest' perevodchik v?” (Do you have a translator in?) I ask. She nods. ”Ty v poryadke?” (Are you okay?).”

 

“I’m sorry.” Is all she says. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Shuri cry before, so her small tears were concerning. “I can’t fix Steve.”

 

Her words were like a knife.

 

“A kak naschet syvorotki?” (What about serum?). The serum basically ensured Steve’s health.

 

“It stopped. The explosion somehow made it stop working.”

 

I think I’m going to fall out of my chair.

 

“Net, eto nevozmozhno.” (No, that’s impossible), I say. She shows me the clipboard, the charts make no sense to me whatsoever, but I can find the words “serious condition, most likely not to recover” written in the top right corner.

“I’m sorry.” 

 

I grab the clipboard out of her hands and start running. I don’t know where I’m going, but anywhere is better than here. Here where Steve is dying.

 

Here where it’s my fault.

 

Shuri is calling for me, most likely running after me, but even she knows she can’t catch up.

 

I’m outside, letting my feet carry me where Wakandan ships have carried me hundreds of times. I don’t know how long I run, but soon I see it in the distance.

 

The tree.

 

The hut.

 

This place doesn’t get Steve off my mind, but it’s a place where I can be alone.

 

The hut looks the same, no one has touched it. Which is odd, usually the village kids like my place and hang out with me from time to time. One of them even offered to take care of my goats, which it looks like she did.

 

The clipboard was still in my hands, of course. I wanted to snap it in half, but I couldn’t. I set it on the mud-brick “desk” instead, next to the computer Shuri gave me.

 

Everything was still in it’s place, my hut looked exactly like it did the day I left.

 

I sat down on the straw bed, head in my hands. The computer chimed, which was odd, and I looked up for a moment to see a notification from Shuri. I didn’t care what it said.

 

“ot,” (Off). Thank god Shuri put voice commands on that damn computer.

 

“I do not understand, please try again.”

 

“Proklyat'ye!” (Goddamnit!) I scream.

 

“I do not understand, please try again.”

 

“Zatknis'!”(Shut up!).

 

“I do not understand, please try again.”

 

Fed up, I find a rock on the ground and throw it at the computer, hoping it will turn off or shut up or do something to lighten my shitty mood. The rock bounces off the walls of the hut and lands on the high-tech keyboard, cracking the glass.

 

“I do not understand, please try again.”

 

I scream and burry my head under my pillow. Something cold brushes against my ear. Confused, I lift my pillow up to see the knife I kept strapped to the pillowcase.

 

Old habits die hard.

 

The knife felt good in my hand, it felt like it belonged there.

 

It felt even better when I dragged the blade across my skin.

 

Old habits die hard.

 

My blood trickled out, dropping onto the blanket someone wove for me. My cuts became faster, careless, I only wanted the pain, not the precision. At this point I didn’t care if I cut an artery.

 

I moved on to my torso when the pain on my arm didn’t do anything for me anymore. My breathing ragged, tears in my eyes, as I cut. The blanket was red, all of it was red, everything was red. I kept going, not caring anymore.

 

 It felt so good, so good to not feel.

 

I didn’t feel it when I passed out.

 

I didn’t even know I passed out.


	3. The End is So Close for You and Me

“He’s been asking for you, James.”

 

It’s been four days since Shuri and T’Challa found my ass in my hut, passed out from blood loss. Since then, I’ve been in the hospital, getting bandaged up, getting my brain fixed. I can now speak English again, but I still sometimes revert to Russian.

 

“I know.”  

 

It’s been three hours since Steve woke up. I didn’t know Shuri put him in a comatose state until they announced that they woke him up.

 

“You need to see him.”

 

It’s been two hours and forty-eight minutes since I had a panic attack.

 

“I know.”

 

Natalia sat down next to me. She patted my back, knowing to avoid the bandages on my right arm and torso. She got up again and grabbed a long-sleeve shirt off the table.

 

Shuri must have dropped it off while I was sleeping, maybe she knew I’d want to cover up the bandages. Natalia handed me the shirt, I stared at her blankly.

 

“Put it on, Barnes,” she said to me. I reach out and grab the shirt, carefully tugging it overhead. I didn’t want one of the scars to open and start to bleed onto my shirt, that’d make Steve suspicious.

 

Natalia carefully grabbed my hand and towed me out of the room when my shirt was on. We walked down the hall for a bit, she let go of my hand when we passed the fifth door we’d seen.

 

My chest was tightening as we walked on, I knew which room Steve was in, but I didn’t want to go there. I didn’t want to go back there to see him dying.

 

I stop walking suddenly, Natalia stops too. She stares at me, then she starts to panic as she gets taller. How was she getting taller? Why is the floor so close?

 

It takes a moment for me to register that I’ve fallen.

 

“Shuri!” Natalia scrambles into a room up ahead and emerges with Shuri a moment later. “He just fell!”

 

“Nurse, get some ice and a water bottle!” Shuri yells. They prop me up on the wall, and a nurse hands Shuri a water bottle and an ice pack. Shuri presses the ice pack against me forehead while Natalia bribes me to drink.

 

“Shuri?” All our heads turn to see a nurse wheeling Steve out of the room Shuri came from. His face is pale, and his hair is sticking to one side of his face, but when Steve saw me, his face turned a different shade of ungodly white.

 

“You’re bleeding…” Steve points to me, and I look down. The shirt has turned dark from blood. Shuri tsks and starts to pull off my shirt.

 

“No!” My hands grab the hem of my shirt and pull it down. I don’t want Steve to see the bandages and get even more worried.

 

“Bucky, we need to change your bandages,” Shuri whispers to me.

 

“Can we do it somewhere else?” I ask. She shakes her head no and forces me to lift the shirt over my head. I hear Steve gasp and I turn red.

 

“Nurse, can you grab enough bandages for all of this?” Shuri asks, gesturing to me. The nurse behind Steve’s wheelchair leaves and Shuri follows, leaving Steve there to watch.

 

Natalia starts to pull some of the bloodied bandages off me. I watch Steve’s expression while she does, knowing he’s going to say something.

 

“What happened, Buck?”

 

There it is.

 

“Nothing.”

 

Natalia gives me a look, then turns to Steve.

 

“We weren’t going to tell you, but Bucky ran off four days ago and we found him in his hut. Passed out from blood loss and a knife in hand. So, all these wounds you’re gonna see are self-inflicted,” She says to Steve. I cringe as his jaw drops.

 

“Buck…”

 

I close my eyes, trying not to glare at Steve. That’s the last thing he needs right now, my glaring.

 

“Did you do it because I’m dying?”

 

Neither me, nor Natalia expected Steve to say that.

 

Natalia turned back around to stare at Steve in shock.

 

“You’re-you’re not dying,” Natalia sputters. Steve smiled a little and looked down at his hands.

 

“I’m not that stupid Natasha,” he whispers. Shuri comes back with more fresh bindings in her now gloved hand. It takes Natalia and Shuri about ten minutes to get my bandages changed. Steve watches silently the entire time.

 

“There you go, good as new,” Shuri says, handing me a new shirt. This one is black, and short-sleeve. I put it on without any argument, then Natalia helps me up.

 

I feel ashamed, ashamed that Steve saw my cuts. He hasn’t said anything for a while now, and I take that as my cue to leave.

 

“Bucky, wait.”

 

I feel a weak hand grab my left wrist, and I stop to look at Steve. He stares at me, and confused, I stare back. Steve then intertwines his fingers with mine. I’m afraid the panels of my left hand with pinch his skin.

 

It’s happened before, not to Steve, but I remember someone getting their skin trapped in one of the panels, and it got ripped off when I moved.

 

I don’t want that to happen again.

 

But I’m not sure Steve will be happy if I don’t move. I do like that happy smile of his. It makes him cuter that he already is.

 

Slowly, the metal hand closes around Steve’s, making him smile. For once, I smile back.

 

“Stay with me, Bucky,” he says. “Please don’t leave.”

 

This time I feel the tears rolling down my cheeks as Steve tightens his grip on my hand.

 

“I don’t namere-(He was going to say ‘Intend’),” I stop myself and take a deep breath. “I don’t intend to leave.”

 

Steve smiles wide and blushes, looking down awkwardly. I can barely choke out my next words, they hurt so badly, knowing the end of the line could be closer than we thought.

 

“Because I’m with you till the end of the line.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the end, btw. This is more of the begginimg of the end


	4. Hey, Buck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here's the fluff. It doesn't last long, however, so expect it to be gone as soon as it comes...

“Hey Buck, you awake?”

 

“No.”

 

“If a Guinea pig and a normal pig had a baby, would it be called a piggy-er Guinea pig?”

 

“If you and I had a baby, would it get my looks and your late-night thoughts, or your sexy ass and my late-night murder thoughts?”

 

“I, I don’t know…” He stumbles. I smile, guess I got the last word for that late-night thought.

 

I could hear Steve blushing, even in the pitch-black darkness. True to my word, I stayed with that idiot, and to be honest, I think I’ve stayed longer than Steve thought I would.

 

“Would you want to have a baby with me?”

 

Maybe I didn’t get the last word.

 

I feel my face turning red. I take a deep breath to steady my breathing and ponder his question, what if we had a baby? Biologically, we can’t, but what if? What if we could? I answered honestly before I could change my mind.

 

“If you could, da,” I swallowed hard. Goddamn brain. “I mean, yeah.” I rub my temple, tiredly. Shuri said the Russian ticks would go away, but she said that’d take time. God, I wanted them gone so badly.

 

“You said yes.”

 

“What?”

 

“’Yeah’ in Russian, is ‘da uzh.’ You said ‘da,’ which means ‘yes,’” Steve pointed out.

 

“It’s the same answer,” I shrugged, hoping Steve would let it go. I felt my face getting warm, and if it wasn’t two in the fucking morning, Steve could have easily seen my face flush red. Thank god for his late-night thoughts.

 

“Yeah, but they have different meaning. If you say ‘yeah,’ then you’re just casually saying yes, most people say ‘yeah’ when they want to make the other person happy or if they want to just respond. You said ‘yes,’ which is something people say when they’re certain of something.” Steve explained. I blink, realizing what Steve said was true.

 

“I didn’t know you spoke Russian.” I admit.

 

“I only know enough to for a small conversation, or enough to understand when you get angry.”

 

I scoff. I don’t speak Russian when I’m angry… do I?

 

One of the machines around Steve starts to beep rapidly, and both of us stare at it. It continues to beep, getting louder every passing second.

 

“I’m gonna get the nurse,” I say, getting up. As I leave Steve’s room, I hear him whispering something. I go back to his bedside and put my ear right next to his mouth, listening to what he’s saying over the beeping.

 

“Turn on the light please.”

 

I turn on the light as I leave, not wanting to catch a glimpse of Steve laying in his hospital bed, white as a ghost.

 

Shuri, and a few nurses rush into Steve’s room when I tell them a machine is beeping. I make the mistake of looking over to be sure Steve’s okay. He’s not, he’s not okay at all.

 

He has the same expression on his face from when I first pulled him from the rubble, and he’s mouthing something as Shuri, and the nurses frantically work around him. A small trickle of blood slowly drips from his nose, trailing down his face.

 

I feel sick.

 

I don’t know if Steve saw me running to the bathroom, but I didn’t care. The bile in my throat came up and emptied itself into the men’s room toilet. The bile stream stopped for a moment before I went again, my throat burning the entire time.

 

“Blyad'! (fuck!)” angrily, I pounded my fist into the wall, making a small dent. “fuck…” my tears were starting to choke me. I didn’t know what to do anymore. This was too much. There’s no way I can lose Steve! No way! It’s literally impossible for him to die.

 

Well, not really, he can die from a gunshot to the head like a normal person, but we’re here with the best medical staff in the world and he’s dying. He’s fucking dying!

 

I pound my fist against the wall again, making the dent a little bigger. I’d probably have to replace that when this is all over, but I didn’t want this to be over.

 

If this was over, there’d be no Steve…

 

I hear someone come into the bathroom, quickly I shut up, hoping they didn’t need the stall. I sit down in the corner, out of sight and hug my knees to my chest. They knock anyways, and I hold my breath, hoping they’d leave so my pity party can continue.

 

“I know you’re in there, Manchurian Candidate. Open up.”

 

And they send Stark after me.

 

Great.

 

“Why should I?” I sniffle.

 

“Alrighty then, I guess I’ll just crawl in.” I furrow my eyebrows, what does he mean, crawl in?

 

I see him before I can respond. Of course, Stark would crawl under the stall door, how gross that is… it’s pretty gross actually. Then again, I am the person sitting in the floor sobbing. Guess I can’t judge him.

 

He sits down next to me and sighs. I stare at him blankly, waiting for his usual speech about how he went through something like this, but it doesn’t come. He just sits there, silently. Stark. Yeah, I’m pretty freaked out about it too, that guy never sits still, and god can he not stop talking.

 

“You gonna speak, or am I?” he asks. Never mind about the silent thing.

 

“No, you go,” I grumble.

 

“You look like shit, Barnes. Let’s start with that. We’re all shit right now. Our friend is dying, and your boyfriend is dying-“

 

“He’s not my boyfriend.” I interrupt.

 

“-He better become your boyfriend. Don’t look at me like that, the whole world has been shipping it. What I’m saying is to make the best of his last moments, okay? For all of us?” Stark asks. Honestly I’ve never heard the guy not talk about himself, so of course I’m in shock.

 

“Can you do that?” He asks again. I nod and sniffle. Stark smiles, he awkwardly pats me on the shoulder, trying to avoid the bandages. “Good.” He gets up, unlocks the stall door, and leaves.

 

For once, Stark leaves without a word.

 

And for once, I have a million questions for him when he does.


	5. A Condom for an Arm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm going to be introducing Shuri's girlfriend in this chapter. Her name is Kya, and if you want a better visualization of her, think of Amandla Stenberg (Played Starr in The Hate U Give and Rue in The Hunger Games). Also, these next few chapters are going to be a little fluffy, but most likely will end in angst (like this chapter), so enjoy the teeny angst break!

What Stark said to me kept me up for the rest of the night. Boyfriend, huh. Was that allowed in… what year is it? In 2019, was it allowed in 2019?

 

A little research left me with the answer of, only in some places. And it looked like Wakanda was one of those places, so that was good. I asked Shuri about a guy having a boyfriend or a girl having a girlfriend when I saw her, and she snickered.

 

“Of course, it’s legal here! I have a girlfriend for a reason.”

 

Her response really surprised me. I didn’t know she had a girlfriend.

 

Note to self: bring up Shuri’s girlfriend next time I see her.

 

As for the internet, it said that in order to ask someone to be your girlfriend (or boyfriend in my case) you’re supposed to take them on a date. Something that’s kind of hard to do at the moment.

 

The next time I saw her, I asked Shuri about her girlfriend (Her name is Kya), I asked Shuri about where I could take Steve for a potential date. Shuri squealed like a kid and grabbed my hand, leading me out of the palace hospital and to a ship.

 

“Hold on, Kya needs to know about this,” She pulled out her phone and started to text Kya, smiling the entire time. “Okay, so we’re meeting her at the Market in about ten minutes.”

 

“Why?”

 

“To figure out where you and Steve could go! And, you need to meet Kya, she’s amazing,” I didn’t argue with that, I did want to meet Kya.

 

We sat down at a table in the Market Place nine minutes and forty-four seconds later. At exactly ten minutes, I started to look around for Shuri’s girlfriend. I didn’t think I’d be this exited.

 

I hear someone squeal, and a girl run up to Shuri, pulling her into a hug. They give each other a quick kiss before she sits down. From what I can tell, their holding hands under the table.

 

“So, this is Kya,” Shuri says to me, motioning to the girl. I can see why Shuri likes her, Kya’s bubbly personality is easy to spot, and she is very pretty. I smile at her and hold out my hand for a hand shake, Kya stares at my hand before getting up and giving me a hug.

 

“You get a hug instead,” She says to me.

 

“Thanks,” I pat her arm with my hand awkwardly. She doesn’t flinch when the metal touches her skin, instead she grabs my hand and seems to dissect it with her eyes. Soon, Kya’s tracing the panels with her finger, watching them click in and out.

 

“Your arm is so cool…” she whispers.

 

“I can customize yours like that, if you want,” Shuri pipes up. I stare at Shuri, then at Kya. Kya smiles and pats my shoulder.

 

“I got one too,” She says, pointing to her right hand. “Shuri made it for me.” Her hand splits open from in between her middle finger and ring finger, and once invisible lines appear on her hand. A small compartment opens from the center of her palm, and she pulls a small flower out of there.

 

Kya closes the compartment, and her hand returns… to looking like a normal hand. I’m honestly kind of freaked out at how life-like it is.

 

“For you,” Kya moves to Shuri and puts the flower in Shuri’s bun. Shuri smiles and hugs her, giving Kya a small peck on the cheek.

 

“Not to interrupt, but we’re here to find a place for a date?” I try.

 

“Yes, right,” Shuri says, suddenly serious.

 

 “Who’s the guy?” Kya asks. Shuri pulls out her phone and shows Kya a picture of Steve. Kya coos and turns to nod at me.

 

 “I ship it,” she says to me. I smile meekly, what the hell does shipping even mean? It’s not like people are boxing me and Steve up and sending us to London. But that would give us some time alone…

 

“What about the art museum!” Kya exclaims. “In the palace!”

 

“Ooh that’s a good place!” Shuri says. She turns to me. “Bucky, how does Steve fell with art?” 

 

“Uh, he went to art school at one point, so...” Shuri and Kya seem a little surprised that Steve went to art school. “He’d like it.” 

 

“Perfect!” Shuri starts to type something in her phone. “I’ll let T’Challa know you and Steve are using the art museum tonight.” 

 

“Wait- tonight!” I exclaim. Shuri and Kya nod. “Oh, then should I get ready or, something?” Shuri stops typing and looks up at Kya. She looks at me then down at her phone, then back at me again. 

 

“You need a haircut,” Shuri mumbled. “Kya, can you do that? I need to make him something for his arm.” 

 

This is all going over my head. Why did I need a haircut? What was she going to do to my arm? Why was the date tonight? 

 

“You got it!” Kya gave Shuri one last hug and a kiss, then grabbed my hand and towed me away from the table. Man, these two have a thing with grabbing people’s hands. 

 

She stops in the middle of the sidewalk and I bump into her. People around us mutter and walk around, angry that we caused them to be thirty seconds late for dinner. Sometimes Wakanda reminds me of New York. 

 

“Here we are!” Kya says, pulling me into a small shop. We get inside and I’m almost immediately sat down. Man, these people are fast. 

 

“What would you like?” The Barber is at his station, organizing it. I’m about to respond with ‘just a trim’ when Kya steps in. 

 

“Make him look like this,” she shows the Barber her phone and he nods, looking back at me. 

 

“It might look weird, but whatever,” he shrugs. First thing he grabs are a pair of scissors, and I flinch a little. What picture did Kya show him? 

 

“Woah there, buddy! That’s a lot of hair!” I hear myself say. The barber was about to cut over three inches off my hair! That’s way too much. The Barber shrugs anyways and cuts it off, the hair falling to the floor. “Kya, what did you tell him to do?” I gasp. 

 

She giggles and pulls her phone out again, putting it in front of me. It takes me way too long to recognize the 1940’s picture of myself with short hair. 

 

“I told him to do that,” she says, pointing to the screen. 

 

At least Steve’s going to be surprised. 

 

It took the Barber eighteen minutes and eleven seconds to chop and style my hair. When he was done, he gave me the nod of approval before Kya paid. 

 

When we got outside, Kya took a picture and sent to Shuri, who ‘FaceTimed’ us sixteen seconds after the text was delivered. Shuri gave my haircut approval and said to get some flowers next, then head back to the palace. 

 

“What type of flowers does Steve like?” Kya asked me, she had dragged me (again) to a different part of the Market that seemed to specialize in flowers. I thought for a moment and looked around, before my eyes landed on a bouquet. 

 

“These work,” I said, walking over to a bouquet of daises. Kya bought them. 

 

We returned to the palace with a bouquet of daises and a new haircut. Shuri met us on the landing pad with a box for me and a kiss for Kya. 

 

“Open the box, Bucky,” Shuri instructed. I did, and was immediately confused. There was a sleeve and a glove in the box, both made from a clear, stretchy rubber material. It looked like a condom for an arm. 

 

Wait… a condom for my arm. Isn’t that apart of gay sex these days?

 

Is Shuri implying that I should… fuck… Steve?

 

“Thanks, Shuri... but I don’t think I’ll be putting my fist up Steve’s ass on a first date,” I say, handing the box back to her. Shuri and Kya stare at me blankly. “This is a condom, right?” 

 

Shuri and Kya howl with laughter. 

 

“No genius, it’s a sleeve for your arm!” Shuri laughs, handing the box back to me. 

 

Oh. 

 

That makes more sense. 

 

Shuri slips it over my metal extremity, and pressed a button on the wrist. The sleeve slowly turns into a skin-like color, then starts to adjust to make it look like an actual arm. I must admit, I was shocked when she first turned it on. 

 

“Now it looks like mine!” Kya exclaims, holding out her right hand. We compare our prosthetics for a bit while Shuri judges her work. 

 

I smile, this is cool. My arm looks exactly like it did seventy years ago, which is sure to surprise Steve. 

 

“Alright, let’s find you something to wear and get you to your date,” Shuri says, leading the way into the palace. 

 

I don’t think Shuri realizes that I’ve never felt more comfortable in my own skin than I do now. 

 

And I don’t think Shuri realizes that for once I’m smiling for myself. 


	6. Handprints

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I promised fluff, but the chapter ran away from me and joined the dark side and now it’s Anakin Skywalker rolling in angst. 
> 
> Yeah. So that happened. 
> 
> Also, if you can find the not very subtle Guardians of the Galaxy reference in this chapter, then good job *thumbs up*

Shuri said that in order for the date to even happen, I’d need to ask Steve. Which is kind of dumb, why should I ask him if we’ve done all this planning ahead of time?

 

I asked Shuri that and she said it’s because ‘he’d say yes no matter what’ so I’m hoping she’s right.

 

Steve looked better today, apparently he insisted that the nurses get him out of the room so he could walk around a little bit.

 

They gave him a pair of crutches when he refused the wheelchair.

 

So when I saw him walking (hobbling) around the hospital grounds, I took my chance.

 

“Hey Buck!” I smile, he looks really cute today. “I like you haircut.”

 

That’s a god sign, maybe this whole date thing can be easy.

 

“Thanks, just got it cut. I was wondering if you’d wanna go somewhere sometime with me?”

 

I’m pretty sure Steve’s expression means that I failed. Maybe I didn’t plan those words right? Maybe I shouldn’t have gone right into the asking Steve on a date thing?

 

“Uh-ye-Yeah. Sure!”

 

Did not expect that answer.

 

“Alright, The Art Museum work for you? Tonight maybe?”

 

Moment of truth.

 

“Yeah, that’s perfect.”

 

Yes! Shuri was right!

 

“Wait is this like, a gay date, or...?” Steve asks.

 

“Yes, it’s a gay date,” I confirm. Steve kind of perks up a little. I think my heart’s going to explode! “Full homosexual works or art.”

 

That earns a chuckle out of Stevie, and I can’t help but laugh along.

 

“That’s perfect, I’ll be there,” he says, grabbing my arm to steady himself. When Steve realizes his fingers aren’t touching metal, he stumbles back and almost falls over.

 

“Shit Stevie!” Somehow, I manage to catch him before he falls to the floor. “Sorry I should have said something. Shuri made a sleeve for my arm the makes it look, well, normal,” I explain. Steve is nodding along like he understands, but I know he’s more focused on getting back on his feet.

 

Has Steve’s ass always been that big...?

 

Within seconds, Steve is in my lap and I’m on the ground, confused at what happened. Steve’s crutches still lay abandoned when he slipped, but now he’s in my lap.

 

He’s in my lap.

 

We stare at each other for a while, not acknowledging the fact that my arms are around Steve and Steve’s sitting in my lap. This would be a great time to kiss, the thought of that crosses my mind.

 

Hell, why not? It’s okay to do that in... in whatever year this is. And maybe my eyes are deceiving me, but it looks like Steve’s leaning in a little closer...

 

“Hey Buck, I was wondering if ohmygod!” Natalia walks around the corner just then, ruining the moment. Steve turns red and pulls away from me. Wait, did he actually pull away from me? Was he leaning in closer?!

 

Natalia pulls out her phone and takes a picture. We smile like this is normal, like it’s normal for Steve to be sitting in my lap.

 

Steve’s ass might be too big, because it starts to slip off of my thighs. I squeeze Steve a little tighter so he can stay on my lap for just a little longer... just a few more seconds...

 

“Oh, be careful with Steve, Bucky,” Natalia says when she sees me shift. That’s when I wake up and face the music. What was I doing? Why was I here, where I could but Steve again, or maybe hurt him more.

 

Steve was dying, in my lap. And if I move too much I could be the one who’d kill him.

 

“I’m sorry, this is getting awkward,” I say.  Steve scoots out of my lap and lands on the floor with a cry. That’s when the I realize something.

 

I don’t deserve to be here.

 

I could lash lash out and kill everyone here at any second.

 

I should be dead.

 

I’m a mistake.

 

I failed my mission.

 

They’ll... oh god...

 

HYDRA won’t be happy with me.

 

“I shouldn’t be around people. I’m sorry, it’s just... I can’t do it! I’m too afraid,” my voice breaks and the lump in my throat feeling like it’s choking me.

 

”I can’t be gentle anymore! It’s something that’s gone away long ago, being gentle!” I couldn’t see anymore, tears were streaming down my face and blinding me. 

 

“And I’m sorry I was designed to kill and kill and kill and kill and kill and kill and kill and kill and kill and kill! I didn’t ask to be torn apart and put back together again! I’m sorry it’s my fault he’s dying! It’s my fault, my fucking fault!” 

 

I don't remember much after screaming that. The one thing I do remember, something I remember very clearly, was a sharp pain shooting up my arm.

 

I did know that whoever pricked me wanted me to sleep. Something to get me back on the fucking table where they can just pull me apart again and make my insides match my outsides. 

 

I see it, too.

 

I see it for the first time in years.

 

For some reason I’m happy to be back.

 

The voiceless scientists examine my arm. Not my left arm, that one’s gone already. Off to get re-done and re-worked. No, the scientists are examining the cuts on my right arm that no longer need a bandage.

 

Those cuts will need a bandage when they’re done with me.

 

One scientist shakes her head and writes something down, while another takes a syringe of something from one of the chemical tanks in the room.

 

From what I can tell, this one’s going to hurt.

 

I close my eyes, feeling the straps tighten around my body as the chemical is injected. I can feel my heart beat faster and my thoughts become louder, more animal.

 

If lava and ice could mix, that would be what’s inside my veins right now.

 

My eyes jolt open, and I jolt upright. I find it odd that I’m able to move, usually HYDRA strapped me down. It takes too long for me to remember that HYDRA’s gone.

 

I’m not on an operating table anymore, it’s been replaced with a soft white bed. Someone put the bandages back on my arm and torso, and dressed me in all white clothes.

 

I hope they weren’t expecting me to spill anything on the white cloth.

 

The room I awoke in has a whiteboard on the wall, and written on the whiteboard are four questions and a message:

 

What is your name...?

 

How old are you...?

 

When were you born...?

 

Do you remember what happened...?

 

Please answer as many of these questions as you can! :)

 

Was the smiley face really necessary?

 

And I’m pretty sure number two and number three play hand-in-hand.

 

I turn away from the board, to Hell with those questions. Like I want to answer them anyway. I’ve been so focused on the whiteboard that I get the first glimpse of the room I’m in.

 

It’s all white and glowy. The only exception is an accent wall. It has a large window taking up almost all of the right side of the wall and the rocky Vibranium face making up the other side of the wall.

 

I look up to see that the Vibranium rock face extends about two stories up, where the ceiling ends it. The window also extends up, and I find the window is giving me a great view of Wakanda’s Vibranium mine. I smile, this will be so perfect for climbing.

 

I vaguely remember an extra blanket at the foot of the bed I woke up on, and so I turn to grab it, when I notice a door on the opposite wall of the Vibranium accent wall. The door has a small window, too, similar to an airplane window. Blanket forgotten, I curiously walk up to the window and look out.

 

I see Steve. That’s the first thing I see. Next I see his wheelchair, the sling his arm is in, and the bruises on his face...

 

Those bruises weren’t there before...

 

He’s sleeping so peacefully, breathing in and out in a gentle but calm way. I sigh and press my hand to the glass, knowing this would be as close as I’d get to him for a while.

 

My breathing quickens, and I force myself to rip my hand away from the glass. I take a step back, then another, then another. I should be farther away from Steve, I should be so much farther away from Steve.

 

The bruises on his face matched my handprint perfectly...

 

I take a few more deep breaths before erasing the smiley face on the whiteboard and writing a note to Shuri.

 

 ~~What is your name...?~~   Please keep Steve

                                    away from me,

 ~~How old are you...?~~          I don’t want

                                  to hurt him again

 ~~When we’re you born...?~~    -Bucky Barnes

 

~~Do you remember what happened...?~~

 

~~Please answer as many of these questions as you can!~~

 

 

 


	7. My Serum is Shit

“Steve, you can’t be in here!” Natalia says. She catches up with Steve, who's gotten to be almost unstoppable with crutches, not many people can catch him anymore.

 

“And why not?!” He fumes. His face is turning red and he’s panting from the effort it took him to get from the palace hospital to Shuri’s lab/hospital/psychiatric ward undetected.

 

“You just can’t. I know you don’t want to hear this, but Bucky doesn’t want to see you,” Natalia  murmured. Steve stopped hobbling. He took a deep breath and stared back at Natalia.

 

“Why?” He asked like a little kid. Steve was on the verge of tears, and it hurt me to watch anymore.

 

I had established my ledge in my fortress of solitude. Shuri gave me a tablet connected to all the security cameras in the hallways for me to pass the time. So, of course, I was passing the time by feeling guilty for hurting Steve (again) and ruining our date.

 

“He doesn’t want to hurt you again,” Natalia whispered. Her words were like a knife to my gut. I didn’t want to hurt Steve ever again. And at this point, the best way to do that was to not be in contact with him at all.

 

I don’t know why I’m still watching Steve and Natalia, who are right outside my door (that can only be opened by Shuri or by me from the inside).

 

Steve stops at my door and looks through the tiny window. Thank god that window only lets people outside see only a tiny amount in.

 

“And he’s in there?” Steve turns to Natalia. She nods her head.

 

“Shuri gave his room the setting to be opened from the inside only. From what I’ve heard, he hasn’t showed any interest in leaving at all,” she explained.

 

Well what can I say, there’s just less people in here.

 

“Captain Rogers, Ms. Romanoff,” I didn’t know Shuri was in the hall too. “Steve, I thought I told you to stay away from here?”

 

Steve smiles a little and looks down.

 

“I know, but I just end up here,” he says. Natalia rolls her eyes. “Any news on my condition?” Great subject change, Stevie.

 

“The serum died out this morning. As of now, you’re off it,” Shuri whispered.

 

“And that’s possible?” I detected a hint of defiance in Natalia’s voice.

 

“We believe the base you infiltrated was trying to re-create the serum. We hypothesize that when the explosion went off, the serum they made mixed with the radiation of the explosion rapidly slowed down the serum’s effects to a point where they stopped. We don’t know what’s going to happen next, you could shrink back down to pre-serum size, or your body will just give up trying to function. I’m sorry Steve, but it’s not good,” Shuri explained.

 

“And you shouldn’t be walking, you’re in a wheelchair the moment you get back to the palace hospital.” She added.

 

Steve smiles wider. How the hell was that idiot smiling when all of this was happening?

 

“And there’s no way to fix it?” Natalia asked. I’m pretty sure this is her fourth or fifth time asking.

 

“We’re not sure. There might be a way to help the serum start back up, so we’re looking into the possibility,” Shuri said. I sat up, was she saying there’s a way to save Stevie? “We’d need a serum. Something as close as we can get to the serum Steve had. Something like-“ Shuri motions to my door.

 

And I almost fall off the ledge.

 

Almost.

 

I do let out a cry that makes everyone turn to my room. The tablet I was holding falls to the floor as I try to save myself from falling ten feet. In the process, my blanket falls to the floor on top of the tablet.

 

Somehow the tablet is still on, and the feed is still going. What was that thing made of? Vibranium? I can see everyone turn to my room when the tablet falls the ground.

 

“There he is,” Steve says, scrunching up to the glass. “You think he can hear us?”

 

Oh, I can hear you just fine, Steve.

 

“Anyways, Shuri keep going,” Steve turns away from the glass to listen to Shuri.

 

“As I was saying, our scientists are pretty positive this could work, we just need him to volunteer,” Shuri went right back into the conversation.

 

I just need to volunteer to save Steve?

 

That’s it?

 

“Since his blood has about the same amount of serum in it as Steve’s once did, all we’d need to do is a blood test. We’d filter out the blood cells, bacteria, basically everything that isn’t serum. Then we’d inject it into you.”

 

My eyes go wide as I realize something. HYDRA’s serum is shit, total and absolute shit. It made me putty in their hands, and it made my life grade-A hell. I had so many side-effects from the serum inside of me, and if Shuri injects my serum into Steve, it’s guaranteed he’ll experience those same effects.

 

Do the Wakandan scientists not realize this?

 

“However, Bucky’s serum is still very different from Steve’s, and injecting Steve with the serum could cause some nasty side-effects,” Shuri adds. “It’d be like going through chemotherapy, but so much worse. It’s our last resort, not the safest, but it should work.”

 

“It should?” Steve asks. Shuri nods her head and turns to my room.

 

“Yes, it should. But we’d need someone’s approval first.”

 

They’re talking about me, giving me this choice, and ThEy KnOw I cAn HeAr ThEm.

 

“Let’s get you back to the hospital, Steve,” Natalia wraps her arm around Steve to steer him out of the hallway and to a ship headed for the palace. “And let’s get you in a wheelchair.”

 

I don’t need the tablet to hear Steve’s groan.

 

Shuri eventually leaves, too. She leaves something by my door when she does, and I watch her make her way to the lab. That’s when I make my move. Silently, I hop down from the ledge I’ve been on all day, slink to the door.

 

There’s a control panel next to the door, always on and illuminated, ready for me to press the “open” button to open the door. I stare at the button for a moment before I press it, the door slides open and whatever Shuri left propped up on my door floats to the ground.

 

I see a piece of paper with a hand-written note from Shuri. I don’t have to read it to know that it talks about how I could save Steve.

 

I walk right past it, and it floats into my room. The door closes behind me, and my shoulders tense when I hear a soft click. I’ve been down this hallway many times, but now it seemed so foreign and bare, cold.

 

I let my feet do the walking, and I find myself in Shuri’s lab a few minutes later. She has her back to me when I enter, working on a new gadget of some sorts.

 

“That was fast, T’Challa,” she says. Shuri turns around and her face morphs into surprise. Her voice catches in her throat. “Hey, Bucky. It’s great to see you again.” I smile and shrug, looking around her lab.

 

“Yeah, it is. I was wondering about Steve…” I start.

 

“Oh, you just missed him and Natasha. Actually, there’s new information about…”

 

“Warning you now, when your scientist injects Steve with my serum, you’ll want to keep him in confinement for a few days. You’ll also want to supply him with heavy painkillers, heavy sleep meds, and antianxiety and depression pills. There’s more on the list, too, if you’d like to know them.” Shuri smiles sheepishly when I tell her.

 

“I’m assuming you were listening to our conversation in the hallway,” She smiles.

 

“And prescribe anemia pills. It will happen, no joke… you should probably write this down…”

 

Shuri scrambles for a notepad and starts to scribble away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! I'm here to explain the science side of this chapter (again, cause' why the fuck not). This might be boring to some people, so you don't have to read this is you don't want to ;)
> 
>  
> 
> Steve is dying because the serum he has stopped working. If you remember, in the first chapter, Steve had a whole entire building collapse on him after a large explosion. The owners of this building (bad guys) were trying to re-create Steve's serum. Of course, the serum was inside the building when the explosion went off, and by coincidence it was on the same floor as Steve. 
> 
>  
> 
> Now we're getting into some Fantastic Four shit right here. The radiation of the explosion (Explosions have radiation, yes) mixed with the radiation and chemicals from unfinished/knock-off-serum made a Molotov cocktail of shit for poor Steve. The amount of radiation he was exposed to, was enough to match the radiation from when he got Dr. Erskine's serum. But it wasn't just the radiation from the explosion at play here, it was also the radiation from the knock-off-brand-serum that was being made at that facility that put the cherry on top of the sundae.
> 
>  
> 
> The knock-off-serum is what essentially shut-down the serum’s effects in Steve’s body. It just took all that radiation to kick-start to process. 
> 
>  
> 
> Now you’re probably wondering, what about Natasha? She was in that building when the explosion went off, shouldn’t she be dying? 
> 
>  
> 
> I never said she wasn’t dying…
> 
>  
> 
> Anyways, hope you all enjoyed the chapter, there will be more where that came from! Hope you all understood what my science brain was saying, and if you have any questions feel free to message me on Tumblr at My_Dreams_Are_Shit_Posts!


	8. And it Stays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI Bucky is afraid of needles in this chapter- he gets blood drawn for Steve’s treatment (which was discussed in the previous chapter- and is comparable to Chemotherapy)
> 
> That was me NOT spoiling the chapter- there’s much more that happens in this. Lotsa fluff- so don’t get used to it!

I took a deep breath and walked through the door to the check-up room. Shuri was already waiting for me, ready to draw a little bit of blood.

 

Needles scare me. It’s a fact not many people know, but I’ve always been squeamish around needles. Even before... everything... I hated needles. After Shuri helped me get my sanity together (she calls it the Great Bucky Corral), one of the first things I remembered was a time in 1932, with Stevie.

 

That was when Mrs. Rogers gave me my first tetanus shot.

 

Not fun. Hurt like a bitch afterwards.

 

Shuri knows about my fear, and has done pretty well to help me through it. Drawing blood still scares the shit out of me, I’ll admit, but Shuri should be able to help. At least, she said she’s help me through it.

 

I sit down on the table, and Shuri smiles at me.

 

“We have one more person coming before we start,” she says to me, laying out the syringe within my grasp. I pick up the syringe and study it, replaying the semi-solid logic in my head.

 

Shuri won’t do anything but draw blood.

 

Shuri won’t do anything but draw blood.

 

Shuri won’t do anything but draw blood.

 

Shuri won’t do anything but draw... draw... is that Steve?

 

My head does a quick jerk as I realize Steve is in front of me. I hastily put down the syringe and tense up. Steve smiles at me a little and his hand reaches out to touch my face. I jerk when he gently brushes his fingers across my cheek.

 

I immediately feel bad for flinching. Mainly because I know it’ll make Steve sad.

 

But Steve doesn’t seem to be showing any of his normal signs of distress...

 

“Good morning, Steve!” Shuri says. She turns to me. “We can start now,” Shuri reaches for the syringe she placed next to me and holds it up so I can see it.My breath catches in my throat as I realize Shuri invited Steve. To calm me down. It’s not exactly working.

 

“Hey, Buck, listen to me,” I pry my eyes away from Shuri’s needle and to Steve. He’s watching me, calculating my body language as I move. He half-smiles and slowly intertwines his fingers to mine. As his grasp becomes tighter, I feel Shuri’s needle puncture my skin.

 

My eyes shoot open, and I panic. My breathing becomes quicker, and I can feel my heart beating faster. The needle in my arm starts to sting, badly. It feels as if someone’s injecting fire into my skin, instead of taking out a small amount of blood.

 

“Steve, do something!” Shuri is starting to loose her cool composure. Steve follows her command and does something. Although I didn’t expect him to... why are my lips wet?

 

Oh my god he’s kissing me.

 

Time feels as if it’s stopped. How I’d love for that to happen, for time to stop. Then I could stay with Steve’s lips locked around mine forever. We wouldn’t worry about that ominous fate of Steve’s. If time would stop, I’d have Steve to myself.

 

Wishful thinking, it’s wishful thinking to have Steve to myself, much less time stoping!

 

Time continues again, but it skips a little, dumping me out in Steve’s arms. I feel calm, for once, my breathing at a steady pace instead of it’s usual huff.

 

I look up at Steve tentatively, getting used to being in his arms. This has to be hurting him, I’m sitting in his lap- bridal style- while he’s in a wheelchair. And I’m not a light person, either. It has to be hurting him.

 

But the hurt doesn’t show on his face. Instead, his face has this look of wonder and serenity. It’s an expression that looks amazing on him.

 

My fingers have a mind of their own, snaking their way up Steve’s chest and to the back of his head. He smiles at me, and then my arm pulls his head forward to mine, ensuring for our lips to meet again.

 

I have my eyes closed, so I don’t see Shuri pull out her phone and take a picture, but I hear the faux camera shutter noise those Apple idiots programmed on the phone. Steve jerks away when the shutter clicks, and so do I. Shuri has this smug look on her face, while she stares at us.

 

“My work here is done,” she smiles. Shuri walks out of the room, and I’m left with Steve again. I’m left with Steve, by myself.

 

Shuri left Steve with me, knowing I could hurt him.

 

Coming to my senses, I climb out of Steve’s lap. He whines a little and gives me a concerned look.

 

“Sorry,” I mumble. Steve tilts his head in confusion. He reached out for my hand, but I pull it away.

 

“Why are you sorry?” He asks me. I bite my lip, continuing to stare at him. How do I explain...?

 

“For hurting you,” the words come out almost one at a time. I can feel my mind cracking every time I speak. One more word is all it could take to break me again.

 

“Truth or dare.”

 

I didn’t expect him to say that. Truth or dare? Seriously Stevie?!

 

“Um... truth?”

 

“Do you want to kiss me again?”

 

“Dare.” I say quickly.

 

“Kiss me.” Steve smirks. I sigh and look at Steve.

 

“Never have I ever...” I start.

 

“That’s not the game!” Steve laughs. A small smile creeps onto my lips.

 

“Steve,” I touch his arm, suddenly worried about him. These next few weeks are going to be shit for him, absolute shit. “You better take the meds they give you.”

 

That was the best I could do?!

 

‘You better take the meds they give you’?!

 

Steve nods anyways. I’m pretty sure he can tell that I’m re-thinking my words.

 

“I will,” he responds.

 

And somehow, his words calm me down a little. As they say, it’s the calm before the storm, the calm before the shit of this whole situation takes a turn.

 

But for once my mind doesn’t over-think it, and for once the oncoming shit storm flies past me, completely missing me. And for once, the calm I’m feeling stays.

 

I take a deep breath and sit down in one of the chairs in the room. I stare at Steve for a moment before smiling, and looking down.

 

Steve wheels over to me. He flawlessly transfers from the wheelchair to the chair beside me. His arms drape around me, and my head leans against his shoulder.

 

And for once, the calm I’m feeling stays.

 

Oh how I wish it’d stay more often.


End file.
